


Moments

by insertcleveruserhere



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Archer Inquisitor, Awkward, Chess, Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Dragon Age Inquisition, F/M, I don't know how to tag this, I don't know if I'll update this, Inquisition, Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Inquisitor has a kid, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Inquisitor - Freeform, Rogue Inquisitor - Freeform, lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27941834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertcleveruserhere/pseuds/insertcleveruserhere
Summary: Katrin and Cullen are terribly in love; Cole is the Inquistor's son's "imaginary friend". Sera has bees.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Kudos: 1





	Moments

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely want to change the summary, but I don't know if I'm ever going to touch this story again. 
> 
> I honestly just wanted to write some Cullen smut but ended up writing this. I desperately want an Inquisitor with a kid, so this is entirely self-indulgent and I hope you enjoy :)

Quiet moments were few and far between. Cullen could count, on one hand, all of the hours that he’d had totally to himself since joining and founding the New Inquisition - since before Kirkwall even, Maker. He knew that his task was an immense one. Being Commander of the Inquisition, formidable as it is, along with one of three advisors to the Inquisitor were no small feats, and he was proud of his job. 

But quiet was hard to come by, even when he slept. 

Especially when he slept, nowadays. The Call of lyrium sung to him, quietly pulling him back into the safe, comforting warmth it had to offer. Sometimes he had to remind himself to breathe, just so the tight feeling in his chest would slip away. It was a wonder of wonders that his hair hadn’t gone grey - or worse, that he hadn’t started balding. 

He subconsciously runs a hand through his hair, sitting at the chess table in the Skyhold gardens. This was one of few places where he didn’t _have_ to remind himself to breathe. It was calm, but he could still hear the mingling of the faithful. He could smell the fresh blooms, listen to the prayers, and pretend like the War Room was further away than just outside the small enclosure. Plus, he felt...lucky with the Statue of Andraste watching over him. 

He maps out the battle plan on the board in front of him, knocking over a rook, and as he’s planning his opponent’s move, he hears, “Can’t even escape battle plans while relaxing, hm?” 

He’s jolted out of his little fantasy, blinking as he looks over to the Lady Inquisitor Katrin Trevelyan. Of the quiet moments that he’d found during his time in the Inquisition, most of them involved the Herald, the Inquisitor, the Archer. The Champion of the Just. 

“I...didn’t hear you coming.” He says awkwardly, and he knows that he is not the Commander and she is not the Inquisitor right now - he usually managed to speak with an almost rehearsed, level tone to his voice, spilling off reports and battle plans and training regiments. When it was the two of them...things were different. 

He was also reminded of the little boy who’d grown up with the Inquisition. The day Tomas arrived at Haven, not long after the eruption at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, had been filled with tears and hushed rumors of the Herald’s marital status. 

Regardless of how many people were vying for the widow’s hand, Cullen was well aware that her heart only reached for the wellbeing of her son. Four years had passed since the day he arrived, and Tomas had gone from the little scamp playing on The Iron Bull’s horns to the young boy playing pranks with Sera. 

“I have to keep you on your toes somehow.” She gives him that roguish little smirk, and Cullen just smiles, nodding toward the chair opposite him in invitation, “Can’t have you going and getting comfortable, can we?” 

“We wouldn’t want that.” He leans forward on his elbows, and Katrin crosses her legs at the knee, looking back out at the gardens. He follows her gaze, catching sight of Tomas sitting under a tree, pulling flowers and talking to no one. “He’s a bright young man.” Cullen says, as if Katrin didn’t know that already. 

She smiles, not quite looking away from Tomas just yet, as if he could vanish right before her, “He is.” Then, she adds, “He was named for his late father. By the time I’d come to term, it was just me and Tomas.” 

“My apologies.” Cullen says, and he really meant it. He couldn’t imagine losing a spouse, or anyone he loved. Maker, if any one of his siblings, or his mother…

“Don’t.” She waves his condolences away, “There was no love in my marriage - I knew, from my youth, that nobility only marry for power. My husband was an Orlesian noble who had a habit of falling off horses.” She says, “He wasn’t very good at hunting, it seems.” 

Cullen hums, trying to decide if it was appropriate to laugh or just nod along, “Did you have much family in Ostwick?”

She nods, “I lived in Orlais for a time, while I was married. I moved back to Ostwick...five months into my pregnancy? I had a difficult time, you see, and my Mother insisted that the Ostwick air would do me good. I think she knew how miserable that family made me.” She sighs, resting her chin on her fist, “I’ve two brothers and two sisters.” She smiles, shaking her head, “If Mother and Father had any sense at all, they would’ve seen that Ostwick made us _all_ miserable.”

Cullen does chuckle this time, shaking his head, “I can’t say I’ve been - I’m assuming I shouldn’t consider it?”

Katrin smiles, “Never say never, Cullen. You may have reason, one day.” 

Cullen and Katrin had been doing this, for years now. This back and forth, dancing around one another as they flirt and flit about - she’d approached him, that day in Haven, and he could still remember how struck he’d been by her beauty. He was struck, now, by the thought of her bringing him home to Bann and Lady Trevelyan - Maker, he’d never even met them, and he knew the exact look of disdain he would receive. A farmer’s son, a former templar. The only title he had was within the Inquisition, and even then, they were still trying to find their footing in the world. 

“So, are we going to play or not?” She asks after a moment, waiting for him to set the board. 

“Oh!” He says, jolting into action, “Of course, but only if you’re prepared to lose.” He tries to trash talk, failing miserably. 

Katrin doesn’t comment on it, instead laughing at his jab, “Oh, Commander, I haven’t lost to you yet.” She readjusts in her seat, watching him deftly move the pieces back to their starting places, their homes. She was ready to push them out of their comfort zone. 

The moment is quiet, and they laugh and tease one another every time another piece is pulled from the board. Cullen knows that Katrin is better at this game than he is, but as he starts to take the advantage, he holds onto it, desperately trying to beat the Inquisitor at her own Game. 

They were going to Halamshiral soon. They’d won Adamant - he was frightened, for her, for himself, for the world. 

He didn’t have to think about it right now. It was...nice. 

“Mother.” Tomas says, approaching the table, “Cole says that if we take plums and put them on the windowsill, it will help people. Can I help him?”

She looks over to her son, all soft smiles and nurturing gazes, that cold, hard Inquisitor exterior slipping away, “First of all, is that how we greet the Commander?”

“Hello, Commander Cullen.” He says, looking up to Cullen but not quite reaching his gaze. “Can I, Mother?”

“Run along, then. But Cole has to promise to keep you safe, okay?” 

Cullen looks between the two of them, and Tomas just smiles wide and nods, hurrying off. He asks, “Is...Cole his imaginary friend?” 

“Something like that.” She says a little cryptically, then changes the subject, “Now, where were we?” 

Cullen gets the hint, “I was defeating the renowned Inquisitor at a game of chess?”

“Ah, yes.” She smiles, then smiles up to him. He could love her, he thinks, the way nobles never love. He adores her, the curve of her lips, the curl of her hair. “I think I saw you slip some of my pieces up your sleeve, Commander.”

“Cullen.” He says, on instinct, “Let’s just - no titles, for now. I’m just Cullen.”

She almost looks relieved, “Cullen it is.” She says, and his name just sounds so lovely on her lips, “Call me Katrin. It’s nice to meet you.” She smiles a little wider, and he realizes that she’s teasing him. 

“And you.” He blushes, and curses himself for it. Damn the wintry chill. 

She knocks over another one of his bishops, and, just three moves later, he announces, “Checkmate.” 

She knew that she was throwing the game in his favor - she’d had the opportunity to capture his queen, and subsequently his king, nearly five moves ago, but she kept capturing rooks and pawns instead. She hums, “What a pity - seems my streak has finally been bested.”

Cullen chuckles fondly, “It would appear so - Maker, is the sun setting already?”

Katrin glances over her shoulder, the sky erupting in oranges and yellows, gold trimming Thedas, “It would appear so.” She parrots him, then stretches in her seat, rolling her shoulder, “Thank you for the game, Cullen. It was wonderful.” She practically purrs, and Cullen wets his lips. 

“It was my...pleasure.” He says, only with the briefest of pauses.


End file.
